


weary world rejoices

by only_because3



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2770031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_because3/pseuds/only_because3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve never had bad Christmases, he wants to be clear about that. He enjoyed each one but never really got the whole Christmas magic thing.</p>
<p>    But, like so many since he's woken, this Christmas season is proving to be different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	weary world rejoices

**Author's Note:**

> Secret Santa present for santiagoinbflat for the Marvel RarePair Exchange! There was no prop so I just decided to give into my holiday spirit :) Hope you enjoy!

Steve never really had great Christmases, at least not by today's standards. They never had a tree since he was allergic but even if he hadn't been, the money for a tree was better spent somewhere else, like on their Christmas dinner. He and his mom would construct a tree out of paper, taping it up by the one window that shut completely. Against the wall would sit three presents, wrapped in plain brown paper, one for each of them. On Christmas morning they'd open each one before Steve would sheepishly present the portrait he did of his parents the night before (he would always stay up late making sure it was perfect) and then they would eat dinner, his mother always baking a whole chicken for the occasion.

Steve never had bad Christmases, he wants to be clear about that. He enjoyed each one but never really got the whole Christmas magic thing.

But, like so many since he's woken, this Christmas season is proving to be different.

Sam's mother's house is not small but with such an extended family piled in, it is crowded. Steve sits at the small table pushed against the wall in the kitchen, peeling potatoes. Across from him, Sam's niece Sarah sits on Natasha's lap. Both of their hands are covered in flour, fingertips pinching the apple turnovers closed carefully. At four, this is the first year Sarah's been allowed to help, leaving her excitedly bouncing when each turnover is completed. Natasha rolls out the rest of the dough, three even strokes in each direction. Sarah's eyes widen when it reaches its full size. Steve grins, fondly looking at Natasha's hands guide Sarah's with the turnover cutter. Natasha's own smile, which had been cautious and a little scared when they first came over, has melted into one of pure amusement. Steve suspects Sarah's excitement has seeped into Natasha.

Mrs. Wilson stands at the counter, roughly shopping up sweet potatoes as she hums along to the radio (the station has been playing Christmas tunes 24/7 since Thanksgiving). A roar travels from the living room, whooping drowning out the music, and the humming stops so she can tell the family to quiet down. “So loud I can barely hear myself think,” she mutters and turns the radio up a little bit louder. Steve remembers his mom singing too. She wasn't very good but she always made a valiant effort, her off tune rendition of Come All Ye Faithful the soundtrack to Steve's Christmas memories.

Sam walks into the kitchen, accompanying his mom's singing by singing the words to Jingle Bell Rock. “Smells great in here, Ma,” he says when the song ends. He takes a peek into the oven. Turkey smell waifs out, stronger now, and Steve's stomach growls, prompting Natasha to laugh. “What's so funny?”

“Our boyfriend is starving,” Natasha answers. “Grab him something before he eats a potato raw.”

Sam plucks a banana from on top of the fridge. “If Bucky would ever get back with the chips...”

 “Don't blame that boy of yours when you know good and well it's your fault he had to head out in this snow,” Mrs. Wilson quips from over the sound of the mixer.

“I wasn't the one who threw the ball in the house!”

Bucky opens the back door, doing his best to shake the snow off him and outside rather than the floor. “Had to go to three stores before I found an open one,” Bucky says, voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. He thrusts the bags of chips against Sam's chest so he can kick off his boots.

It sounds like complaining but Steve remembers Bucky trekking across Brooklyn during the snowstorm of ‘37. He brought Steve a bundle of wood, a wool blanket, which he claimed was a present from Rebecca), and leftovers from his family dinner. Steve had told him not to bother, it was too cold and he should've enjoyed the holiday with his family but Bucky wouldn't hear it.

Buck'll do anything to make sure his family and friends are happy.

A chip appears in front of Steve's face. Smiling, Steve opens his mouth wide. Sam pops the chip in Steve's mouth then pulls a handful out for himself. “Nat, you want some?”

“If I do, I won't have enough room for these turnovers.” She rubs her hands over Sarah's to get extra flour off. “I will take something sweet though.” Sam bends to kiss Natasha, no doubt tasting the salt from the chips, only parting when Sarah sticks her finger in Sam's ear.

“Anyone score while I was out,” Bucky asks. He claps his hands on Steve's shoulders, rubbing at the muscles on the back of Steve's neck.

Sam uses a napkin in an attempt to clean his ear, walking closer to the boys. “Of course. You were gone nearly 45 minutes.” Sam throws an arm over Bucky's shoulders. “Think you were my good luck charm. We're down.”

Sam's sister Ashley walks in, complaining about the lack of food ready, followed by Sam's aunt and uncle. “Oh thank god,” Ashley breathes out. “I was about to gnaw my arm off.”

Mrs. Wilson turns around as the newcomers hover around Sam, each one trying to get their hand in the bag. “Get out of my kitchen, you vultures. Dinner'll be ready in an hour. You better still be hungry then.” She swats at them with her dishrag. “Out! Or I'll put you to work.”

Everyone shuffles out, even little Sarah now that all the turnovers are done. Natasha taps her foot against Steve's, coarse wool scratching his ankle. There's flour on Natasha's left eyebrow, sweet apple syrup on her fingertips. “You still peckish?” Steve nods. He begins slicing the potatoes, dropping them into a pot when Natasha stands. She brings the bowl with her, placing the rim of the bowl against his lips, presenting him with the last few chunks of apple and cinnamon syrup. He swallows the mixture as she tips the bowl. There's a thickness left on his top lift that reminds him of lying in bed between Natasha's thighs, his mouth, chin, fingers, all covered in her cum. Natasha licks at his lips, kisses it away.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“I love you both,” Mrs. Wilson says from the stove, “but you've got to stop canoodling and work faster. We've got a hungry army out there.”

–

Bucky flops down on the large blow up mattress they've set up in the living room. “I'm so stuffed.”

“Why is it that you only say that with your face against a mattress?” Bucky glares at Natasha and she laughs softly. She leans, tugs hard on Bucky's hair until he moans. He brings himself up to his elbows, nuzzling Natasha's neck and peppering it with kisses.

Everyone else has gone to sleep, the dinner leftovers piled into the fridge to feed them all day tomorrow. The tree lights are still on and, from Steve's spot in the armchair, they cast a beautiful muted light on his partners. Natasha kneels beside the inflated rubber, finishing off a glass of eggnog, and, once Bucky lays back down fully, Sam curls up on Bucky's right. Bucky starts muttering about their presents, likely worrying even though Steve can't hear all the words. Steve glances at the oversized box labeled for himself, Sam, and Natasha that sits behind the tree. “We'll love it, Buck,” Steve says. “You always gave good gifts.”

“I can promise it's not a blanket this time,” Bucky says sleepily.

“Sh,” Sam yawns. “Sleep time.”

Bucky throws his arm around Sam's waist, thumb tucking in beneath the elastic of Sam's sweats. “Scared Santa won't come if we don't sleep,” Bucky teases.

Sam nuzzles closer. “It's true, he won't.”

Bucky kisses the corner of Sam's mouth. Both men have their eyes closed and it's not long before their breathing evens out, Bucky's light snore filling the room. “You'd think they were the ones who cooked all day,” Natasha says. She kisses Bucky and Sam's foreheads before going to stand in front of Steve. “Not sleepy?”

Steve lets the corners of his lips raise slightly. “You know I'm not.”

She climbs into his lap after he takes her hand, curling up to steal his warmth. “You have a very distinctive thinking face.” He can feel Natasha's breath against his jaw and when he turns to look at her, she's already staring at him. “You wear every emotion on your features... It's why you're so awful at undercover work.”

He laughs lightly in his throat. “Well, it got the three of you, didn't it?”

Natasha grins and nods. Her body relaxes against his. “It's strange isn't it? Being surrounded by so many people who care about you. Enjoying a holiday.”

“I had good Christmases. I do have good memories but I didn't have a big family like those two.” He takes a deep breath. “It is strange but also really, really great.” Steve drags his hand along Natasha's leg, trailing from knee to hip and back again. Before the four of them got together, Natasha never had what most consider a 'proper' Christmas. The first year they were together, Natasha told him that she never had a Christmas before she joined SHIELD (“Ironic, isn't it? My name means Christmas and I had no idea what it even meant.”). Even after, Christmas only comprised of drinking and eating the night away with Clint, and that was only if they weren't working.

Now, Christmas actually means something... It's a day to look forward to and a day in which both Steve and Natasha figure out what it's like to be part of a big, loving family. “You're warm,” Steve says.

Natasha hums. “I feel warm.” She kisses his jaw. “I'm going to sleep. Don't stay up too late. Sarah'll probably be down in a few hours, jumping on us to get to the tree.”

He gives her knee a squeeze. Natasha walks over to the mattress, weaseling her way between Sam and Bucky. Sam kisses the back of Natasha's neck and Bucky slings his leg over Natasha's hip, the three of them a perfectly tangled mess, illuminated by nothing but the white Christmas lights.

Steve quietly goes to his bag, pulls out his sketch pad.

Even if Christmas means more now, he's going to keep certain traditions alive.

 


End file.
